Deceiving is Misleading
by toesnail
Summary: When you're in that much pain, how could death possibly be any worse? Style Oneshot


**Normally I dislike it when people name stories after songs or quote songs or whatever, but in order to get a better feel from this short story/oneshot, I highly recommend you listen to the song "Remember me" by Anadel (yes i got it from the walking dead game), it's a really moving song!  
>anyways, hope this isn't too badly written or too sappy<br>**

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><p>"Stan.." He says your name with comfort. That soft voice of his, oh that voice. It's the voice you love, because it's calm and content. It's not angry, nor happy. It's a neutral sound, which is one of the many reasons why you fell in love with him in the first place.<p>

"Stan, I.." He repeats, this time more shaky. The voice you thought you loved, turned out to be the voice you also hate. It's weak and helpless. Like the sound of captivity, the sound of a cry for help. But you know there's nothing you can do, other than stay by his side.

"Kyle, I'm here." You reply softly, scooting closer to the bed you both share. You place a hand atop of his, feeling the coldness hit your skin and straight into your veins. At the touch of your being, he sighs. As if relieved by something. With all these blankets and pillows smothered into him, you can tell that there is only one thing and one thing only that can warm him up in a heartbeat. And that's you.

All the people who have come and gone in Kyle's life_, you_ were the one that stuck by him. You've both had your fare share of experiences, majority of them spent together. There is nothing you both haven't done that's involved one another. That's what best friends do. What _partners_ do. You've spent twenty five years together and you wish you could repeat every one of those years. You wish you could go back in time and re-live everything you've done.

Because now.. there is no time. You only have seconds, maybe minutes left before this all ends. Before this illness takes the person you love away. Away to a dark place, to a place you never expected would come so soon. Six months seems such a short time ago now, like it was yesterday. Those words lingering inside your ear drums, those words that make your heart halt for a second or two.

_I.. I have cancer, Stan._

It's only of those many illnesses that will continue to dominate over humans and no matter how much the human race fight it, it will always be there waiting. Waiting to be triggered and waiting to latch. The only cure there is, is the hope for delay. The hope for more hope. Nobody wants a life to end like this, simply nobody.  
>And why does it happen to all the good people anyway? Why couldn't it have happened to that murderer down the street, or that rapist in the paper? Why the good? Why the innocent? Why Kyle? Of all people, why him?! Why not you?!<p>

He doesn't deserve this.

You remember him telling you how much he wanted someone to come and take the pain away from him.. And you always wished you could reach out and take it from him.

But if only life were as easy as that. If only delivering pain was just as easy as receiving it.

"Stan, I gotta.. I gotta say something." He speaks to you, coughing in between a word or two.

"Go ahead, say whatever you want."

"I just wanted to say.. thank you for being there for me. For helping me through all this,"

You faintly smile at his comment. This must have been the eightieth time he's expressed his gratitude to you, but it doesn't bother you. If it makes him happy to keep at the constant appreciation towards you, then so be it.

"And I just wanted you to know that.. I would have done the same for you." He finishes, before spluttering up another group of coughs.

"It's okay, Kyle." You place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb along the thin material. "You're gonna' be okay. It's almost day light, see?" You point towards the open window to see the sun, rising between two sets of distant mountains.

"Daylight?" You watch as he turns his head to the side. "Ah, sunrise. Nothing I love better, huh?"

"That's right."  
>He's getting tired, you know it's not long now. You know time is almost up and there's nothing you can do but wait for it to come.<p>

Reaching out a hand, you cup his cheek. You watch, as he brings his gaze back towards you and warms himself into the touch of your palm. A weak smile appears across his lips. The smile that seems to be the only life in him right now. His hair lost it's glow a while ago now. No longer is it a beautiful wild mess of red curls. Overtime it mixed into a dull, matted color and no longer is it as thick as it used to be. It's weak as it stands above his head, due to the recent patches of hair loss.

"Don't leave me." He voices, though it's merely a whisper.

You fight back the urge to just break down there and then, because in order for him to be strong, you need to be even more so. Your palm slips down his arm and retreats back to his hand. You keep it resting on top of his and reply simply, "I won't, I'm right here."

"I.. I'm at home, aren't I?" He slowly closes his eyes and you try to ignore the question of whether or not he'll re-open them again.

"Yeah, you're home. Where you wanted to be, remember?"

"Yeah.." He sighs, "Home."  
>He takes in a deep breath before exhaling. You anxiously watch, as he tilts his head to the side again, the morning sunlight beaming across his pale skin. You feel the room start to build a cold atmosphere and you can't bear to think about the seconds drawing to an end. His eyes remain closed, but he opens his mouth ever so slightly, only to speak his last few words.<p>

"Stan?"

You lower your head and sniff, trying to pull yourself together. "..Yeah."

"Remember me."

You manage to lift your head and open your eyes to look down at both your interlocked hands. Those words echo through your mind and you nervously look up, not wanting to be greeted with what you've feared all this time.

Yours eyes skim up and past his features.. until you reach his eyes. Those emerald, green eyes. The eyes that add to the list of why you fell in love with him to begin with. They aren't looking at you, however. They are rolled towards the direction of the mountains, where the orange sunlight is blazing through. Your heart drops as realization hits you. He's.. He's..

"Kyle.."

"..Kyle,"

"Hey, Kyle."

"Kyle, wake up."

"Kyle. Kyle!"

"..Come on, wake up!"

"Kyle, please, you_ have_ to wake up!"

"I can't do this without you, please wake up!"

"Kyle! .. _KYLE!_"

"PLEASE. PLEASE, WAKE UP!"

You frantically shake his arm, still believing there may be an impossible chance.

"KYLE, PLEASE!" You exclaim, lifting yourself forward to cup his cheeks. You whisper a group of cuss words and continue to shake him, though his expression remains the same.

"Ky.. Ky, please.." You whisper, leaning down to his ear, "Don't leave.. not yet. There's still so much we have to do! Please, just one more-" You are unable to finish, as the overflowing of salty tears finally escape your tired eyes. A series of sobs break through, causing your meltdown to diverse into something more exacerbating.  
>You clench your fists and slam them firmly into the pillows beside Kyle's head, while the pitch of your cries increase. "Please. Please!" You beg, feeling your voice crack on the vowel.<br>You hold onto the delicate body beneath you, while your eyes leak from their sockets.

_It's not fair!_ You repetitively think to yourself as you weep the words into your partner's shoulder.

You wish this wasn't real. You wish it was all a dream, a dream that wouldn't come true. But as you flicker your eyelids open, the tiresome set of faded red curls bring reality back to you and you force yourself to realize, that dealing with this is much harder than you originally anticipated. This certainly isn't what you signed up for. But you fully well know, along with any other person that is in the same sort of situation, that this isn't over. Not by a long way. The worst is yet to come and you fear that this will be something you can never recover from. But maybe that's a good thing?

But.. there is one positive aspect from this horrific outcome.

It's the relief of pain that he no longer has to sit through. No more medication. No more doctors. No more side effects. No more of the constant agony of wanting it all to end. You know that's what Kyle wanted. You know that's what he desired for when he was starting to get seriously ill. You look back to the recent times of Kyle begging for the pain to just end, for everything just to stop. But_ you_ didn't want that. You wanted him to live, because living without him is a foreign way of living, in which you plead not of. Now you think about it, it was like he was living in a game of tug-of-war, with you pulling one side and Death pulling the other. You can't help but feel a bit selfish from that.

After minutes of having your arms wrapped round, you pull away from the corpse and sloppily wipe away the tears that were beginning to stain your flushing cheeks. You begin to mentally replace the fretting inside your mind with the slightly more comforting words of, _He's in a better place now. He's got what he wanted, he's happy. Happy._

You lean forward and place a single peck on his forehead, before reaching a hand and lightly placing two of your fingers over his open eyes. Gently, you close them shut, knowing how beautiful and peaceful he is when he's sleeping.

"Don't worry, Kyle. I will always remember you." You voice as you move your head closer to his ear. Lowing your voice to just a whisper, you add,

"Sleep tight."


End file.
